Emrys shrugged. "Enough to have formed some opinions," he supplied vaguely. Opera was not particularly his forte; sopranos could be stuffy, and there wasn't enough movement on the stage to captivate his attention. It was better than doing nothing at home, but given any alternative he would preferred to have done something else.

He was getting bored of this conversation, and wondered if he'd endured it long enough that he could leave without seeming too rude. Maybe, but he would need an excuse. He scanned the crowd again and his eyes lit on an investing connection. "Oh, excuse me, Miss," (what was her name again?) "Greengrass. Business calls," he said, with a vague nod towards the other gentleman.